


Dance Like The Whole World's Watching

by weekendoffender



Category: Football RPF, Sports RPF
Genre: M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-21
Updated: 2010-12-21
Packaged: 2017-10-13 22:31:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/142428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weekendoffender/pseuds/weekendoffender
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dan & Klaas. VIP room. Netherlands NT. No plot, just smut.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dance Like The Whole World's Watching

**Author's Note:**

> This is set after a random Danish NT/Netherlands NT match. Total comma abuse, but written like it on purpose. Oh, and this isn't beta'd so I apologise for any spelling or grammar mistakes.

It was hot. So fucking hot, he was sticky and covered in sweat. He felt it running down his back, his waist and chest. Felt it being lapped up by a tongue. A tongue that had been driving him insane for the past 10 minutes, causing him to buck and moan whenever it twirled around his nipple or chased away the pain of a bite.

Dan didn't know how much longer he could last. His legs were tired (felt like jelly), his back muscles twitched and spasmed (too much arching and stretching), his mouth felt like cotton wool (not enough air, too much too good). He felt his stomach clench up, that familiar wave of pleasure slowly build until it was all too intense and he let it all go. Threw his head back and cried out his orgasm. Heard the gasps, curses from the group of men behind him. Felt the body below him still.

He sagged down, rested on Klaas's shoulder and panted into his ear. He knew the other man hadn't come yet, knew the crowd behind him wanted to see the end of their little 'show' but prayed silently that they would give him a minutes reprieve to rest his legs and catch his breath. They'd only finished the match 3 hours ago, his legs already weak without the added stress of bouncing on the Dutchman's lap.

He felt the cock in his arse begin to twitch. Could feel Klaas's hips straining, begging to slam into him. To take him in front of the Oranje (in front of Kuyt, oh fuck in front of Babel). Sad thing was, he wanted it. Wanted to be slammed into, taken in front of the whole Netherlands NT, taken in front of his club teammates. Wanted it from the moment Klaas took him by the hand and led him to this VIP room, led him away from his fellow countrymen and their knowing grins.

He wanted it all when Klaas threw him to the side and yanked his legs apart, crawled between them and drove into him. Wanted it all when he had to bite into his own arm to stop himself from screaming. Wanted it all when he looked over and saw the whole team, saw Kuyt and Babel, watching him with eyes full of lust and jealousy. Wanted it all when Klaas growled like a man possessed whenever someone tried to touch him. Wanted to be fucked, taken, owned.

And after 5 minutes of fucking, biting, scratching, did the Dutchman finally come. Dan watched as he pulled out, came over his stomach, claimed Dan as his. He preened under the envious, heated stares of the other Dutchmen. Lazily drew patterns in the cum covering his abdomen, smirked when Klaas grabbed his hand and sucked his fingers clean.

And oh it was hot. So fucking hot. As was the rest of the night, spent wrapped up in the other man, both whispering promises of times to come.


End file.
